


The Moments Fled

by furius



Category: The Hobbit (2012), The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Creepy Elves, First Meetings, M/M, Thorin POV, Thranduil POV, Young Dwarves
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-14
Updated: 2013-01-14
Packaged: 2017-11-25 12:20:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 815
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/638847
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/furius/pseuds/furius
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Thorin and Thranduil met in Erebor.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is a brief fic. A longer treatment of Thorin/Thranduil will be written.

In the halls of King Thror, when the dwarves of Erebor still had libraries, and Thorin’s tutors still considered lesson in lore and music as important as lesson in arms or at the anvil, Thorin insisted on being present to greet the elven embassy.

Thorin was barely twenty when the King of Greenwood visited for the first time. King Thranduil has a crown of leaves in his bright hair. He had been king for over three thousand years; he could count more than five thousand years in his life; Thorin looked in wonder upon a living monument, the face as smooth and as beautiful as a work by a master sculptor.

Thorin played the harp after dinner. An elf took up the harmony then startled at how long the end notes lingered among the stones. Thorin then explained the shape and qualities of the hall. The elves laughed, a merry sound that echoed strangely in the space, but Thranduil smiled and Thorin saw his silvery eyes brighter than a vein of mithril.

The books told of how the elves taught the trees to speak, the streams to laugh, and they said also elves were as changeable as the weather and could even betray their kin. But they were stories, as men told stories how dwarves were bred by stone.

Thorin considered few dangers when one’s grandfather’s a king, the father a prince,and he himself the eldest of his father’s children. Fewer companions: Frenin barely had a beard and Dis was still a child. The beds for the elves had been prepared on the balconies and he had not seen the the awnings the glassmakers had prepared that could open or close so their guests would not have rain on their heads.

The elves liked starlight, but Thorin learned that Thranduil’s favorite was not the Earendil, but Luinil, which Thorin could not see.

Thorin had thought- 

Afterwards, he did not know what he thought and when he did, tried to forget so that he remembered only that Thranduil turned away.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thranduil met Thorin in Erebor.

They walked away from sunlight and trees, into the mouth of a mountain, the winding corridors carved deep into the earth. Crystal lamps illuminated the halls of the kingdom of the Erebor dwarves, laying geometrical shadows onto the walls. Uncomfortable, Thranduil quickened his steps.

Metallic wealth and pretty jewels glittered everywhere. Only the Arkenstone was alive, a living jewel, if rumours were to be believed. Thranduil came, finally, because eight hundred years of rumour could displace distaste. Legolas declined to come. A pity. Their forefathers were not forestdwellers. Thranduil had grown up inside stone halls grander and vaster than any dwarven kingdom and now the only elven halls in Middle-earth were in Elrond’s Imladris, where dwelt more histories than joy.

The tiny King Thror sat on a tall throne, blustering pleasantries.

“Thorin, son of Thrain, the eldest of my grandchildren.”

Dwarves were all bearded, in one manner or another. They stood lower than an elf on level ground, but Thorin stood on the dais, and even if his father stood at a height with Thranduil, Thorin stood a little taller.

Thranduil tilted his head. “This is a great treasure,” he said. “I’m honoured to see it.”

The gem had been little worked on, uncut. The light pulsing from within had its own rhythm. Such light; Thranduil had only once glimpsed the like, but this new sun had been newly broken from the earth, blood had not yet touched it; surely it would drive away all darkness, even the shadows that now touched the Greenwood. Surely it could belong to him, in time. Elves lived long lives.

“It is the heirloom of Durin’s line,” Thorin son of Thrain said.

For now, Thranduil smiled at Thorin, for being young, for being lovely as all children could be, and for being not a child at all. The gold harp he put carefully away; he measured his words answering the question of how to contrive music and not merely noise to echo. Thranduil did not have the light of the Two Trees in his eyes, but he had known thousands of years of sunlight, moonlight, and starlight.

The light from Thorin’s eyes were still new, bright with confidence and obliging curiosity. It was like finding clear waters after a long hunt in the summer.

And at night, they had the glitter of quiet reflecting pools. Thranduil had ventured from the woods to a dwarven kingdom which prepared for him a bed beneath the open sky, with curtains of glass to keep away the rain on the head of elves. The world was changing. A dwarf-prince could love music and wonder about stars, with glances still soft with youth.

But elves were long-lived. Thranduil’s world passed him and sank deeper into shadow. With every mouthful of wine, Thorin’s eyes and the Arkenstone, the light leaving them- were only waking dreams.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thorin was 24 when Smaug attacked. Thranduil was considerably older. I've chosen the movie version of the timeline of the shadows on Greenwood.


End file.
